


Down With the Prom Queen

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Prom, Short One Shot, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 11:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21252326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles has been struggling for years to keep his power under wraps, but it only takes one night—one jealous-fuelled prank at homecoming—for things to come undone.





	Down With the Prom Queen

**Author's Note:**

> A Carrie inspired AU just in time for Halloween!

The school gym had been transformed. Long ribbons of flowing white fabric had been draped from the ceiling, radiating from the central point in the room and pinned back against the walls so that the middle hung slightly and the ends cascaded down the walls like curtains of falling water. The parts where the fabric had been pinned to the ceiling or to the walls were decorated with hanging strands of crystal-like beads, the glass chunks shimmering and glinting as they caught the light.

Their classmates gathered in the space, dressed in nice suits and gorgeous gowns—some of them were dancing on the dancefloor while others gathered in small crowds, talking quietly to each other.

“Remember to vote for prom king and queen,” Cora said in her most mockingly preppy voice as she made her way over to their side.

Stiles snorted as he struggled to smother his laughter.

Laura shot her sister a dirty glare.

They both looked stunning.

Cora was dressed in a long white gown that was fitted to her slender shape, the fabric covered in fine lace. Her dark brown hair was draped over one shoulder and twisted into a fishtail braid. Loose strands of hair hung around her face and small beaded hairpins that looked like sprigs of pale white flowers and baby’s breath sat in her hair.

Laura stood beside her, dressed in an elegant steel grey dress with tones of purple in it. The strapless corset hugged her curves and showed off her sleek figure. The shiny silk was drawn across her corset at a sloping angle and pulled into her waist, where the fabric was gathered in tiered ripples that accentuated the split down the side of her dress. The only way it had passed the homecoming dress code was because she was wearing a light grey shawl over her exposed shoulders. Her long dark hair sat around her shoulders, cascading down her back.

Stiles fidgeted with his tie, tugging at the hem of his jacket as he tried to shake the anxious feeling that settled in his stomach.

“Are you alright?” Laura asked quietly, craning her neck as she looked Stiles in the eye.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stiles said dismissively.

Laura cocked an eyebrow, looking at him as if she didn’t believe him.

Stiles let out a measured sigh. “I just a little uncomfortable. Large crowds and parties make me uneasy.”

Derek reached out, sliding his hand into Stiles’. “Just stay close to me.”

A soft blush coloured Stiles’ cheeks as a smile lifted up the corners of his mouth.

“Did you hear?” Cora started, turning her attention away from the stage set up at the end of the gym and back to their small group. “Whittemore has excluded himself from the ballot for prom king.”

“Why would he do that?” Derek asked.

“Maybe because he’s realised that he’s popular enough and doesn’t need a stupid title and a plastic crown to make him feel better about himself?” Laura suggested.

“Because he’s the MC for tonight and he’s decided that his fifteen minutes of fame as the host is better than the five minutes of fame as the prom king,” Cora clarified.

“Oh well,” Stiles said dismissively. “Without him in the running, that means Derek’s sure to be prom king.”

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Cora said, nodding towards the stage where Jackson stepped up to the microphone.

He started his speech, welcoming everyone to the dance.

As he continued on, Cora looked over her shoulder at Stiles, pulling a sour face that made the young man smirk.

Finally, it came time for the announcement of Prom King and Queen.

Jackson looked down at the glossy silver envelope in his hand. “And the Prom King is…”

“Derek,” Laura, Cora and Stiles said quietly in unison.

Up on stage, Jackson opened the silver envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfurled it and read the name, “Derek Hale.”

Laura gently pushed her brother forward.

Derek made his way through the crowd and up to the stage.

Jackson picked up a silver crown, a simple metal design of interwoven details. He forced a smile as he set it atop his head before returning to the microphone stand. Someone off to the side of the stage handed him another silver envelope.

“And the Prom Queen is…”

“Lydia,” Stiles, Cora and Laura said in unison again.

Jackson opened the envelope and read the name, “Stiles Stilinski.”

Stiles felt his heart skip a beat, his stomach twisting as everyone turned to look at him.

Laura and Cora jostled him, cheering as they gently shoved him forward.

He stumbled over his own legs, his heart pounding against his ribs as he made his way towards the small stage they’d set up.

He climbed up the small flight of steps, crossing the stage to where Jackson stood, a crown in his hands and a smile on his face—the kind of grin a lion would have before tearing apart its prey.

“Congratulations,” Jackson said, a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Thank you,” Stiles said quietly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat as he bowed his head slightly and let Jackson place the crown atop his head.

He looked up at Derek, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he met Derek’s loving gaze.

Jackson took a step back, making his way over to the rope on the side of the stage that would drop confetti on them. He unwound it from the hook and let it slide.

But it wasn’t confetti that fell over him.

It was wet, red and sticky.

Stiles flinched, catching his breath as it drenched him, soaking through his clothes. He gasped for breath, slowly blinking his eyes open as he looked down at himself.

Blood.

It streamed down his face in rivulets, staining the white fabric of his dress shirt and soaking his trembling hands.

He swallowed hard against the bile that rose into his throat, burning his oesophagus.

_You don’t see the way he looks at me_.

The voices echoed through his head.

_Claudia, he’s ten years old._

_He’s trying to kill me! … Stop looking at me like that! Stop it!_

Stiles felt hot tears well in his eyes, streaking his vision until everything was a hazy blur of red.

_You killed your mother. You hear me? You killed her_.

“No, no, no,” Stiles muttered.

In the distance, he could hear Derek call his name, but it was drowned out by the deafening, thunder of his heartbeat and the howling laughter of the crowd of students that watched him.

Stiles felt the coil of energy slip his control, searing power coursing through his veins.

The lightbulbs and the strings of lights that decorated the gym shattered, spraying sparks over the room and plunging the hall into darkness.

Derek rushed across the stage to Stiles’ side, bundling him up in his arms and hurrying him towards the double doors that led out of the gym.

A rush of cool night air pulled him back to his senses, enough that he could see Laura rushing out the doors with them. The last thing he heard was Cora shout, “You bastard!” and a heavy thump of a body hitting the gym floor before the doors swung shut behind Laura.

Cora appeared seconds later, balling and unfurling her hands as she stalked out of the gym.

“Stiles.”

He jumped, snapping back to reality as he turned to look at Laura.

She looked as if she had been calling his name for a while, her dark eyes full of worry.

“Blood,” was all Stiles managed to say.

Tears streaked his cheeks and his lungs burnt for air. He was numb. He was shaking and sobbing, breathless as he collapsed to the ground.

Derek dropped down beside him, pulling the young man into his arms and holding him close.

Stiles pushed back against him, not wanting to get the blood over Derek, but Derek didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding him steady and talking softly to him.

Stiles stopped fighting, collapsing against Derek’s chest as he broke down crying.

“It’s okay,” Derek whispered, his husky voice soft and comforting. “You’re okay.”

“Let’s get you home,” Laura said softly.

“No,” Stiles begged between broken sobs. “My dad—”

There was a moment of quiet before Derek said, “You can stay at our house tonight.”

“Come on,” Cora said, her voice still tense. “Before I’m tempted to go punch Whittemore again.”

Stiles watched as the blood washed away, swirls of red streaming down his body as the water caressed his skin, spiralling like ink in water before disappearing down the drain.

After a while, he shut off the water and dried himself off, getting dressed in the change of clothes Derek had given him. They were a size or two too big for him, but it was comforting to be swaddled in clothes.

Stiles stepped out of the bathroom, making his way downstairs and out onto the back porch where Derek sat on the step, staring out at the moonlight-lit woods. He’d gotten cleaned up and changed too and was wearing one of his favourite Henleys and an old sweater with thumbholes cut into the cuffs.

Stiles quietly stepped over to his side, sitting down next to Derek.

Derek draped an arm around Stiles’ slender shoulders, letting him fall against Derek’s side.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked softly.

“No,” Stiles admitted, letting his head rest on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek turned his head, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of Stiles’ head, his wet hair still smelling of shampoo.

He reached over with his free hand, lacing his fingers through Stiles’ and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Laura said to tell you that she’ll get the suit dry cleaned for you.”

“I don’t care about the suit,” Stiles uttered. “But thank you.”

“Lydia texted Cora. She says Jackson’s got a nice black eye.”

A small smirk lifted the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “That does make me feel a little better.”

Derek couldn’t help but chuckle, resting his cheek atop Stiles’ head.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


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